"God save King Richard!" rang out on every side.
I had as soon cried:—"God save the devil!"
The broken-headed Catesby rode beside the King. The two seemed to be conversing as we reached Crosby Place.
"Not favourable to me," said I in Harleston's ear, as I nodded in the direction of the hump-backed King and his adviser.
My friend did not reply, in words; but he shook his head in a manner which showed that he realized my danger fully.
After giving our horses to our grooms we entered the great hall, and from there—when the King had withdrawn himself—we went to mine own room.
How gloomy and lonely did it seem. Something huge, black and terrible did seem to vanish from the centre of the room, dividing into a score of parts, and each part retaining, for an instant only, a pair of fiery eyes, as the light of our lamp burst into the room, dispelling all the darkness.
Now, on this night my room seemed not the same. Ever did I expect to see some spirit of evil arise before mine eyes and stretch out its fantastic arms to seize me. A great gloom had fallen on us both. Neither spoke for some time; and when at length I said to Harleston:—
"No longer can I bear this life; to-morrow I leave this Palace forever," mine own voice did seem to startle me; so hollow and unnatural did it sound.
Then, as if the words I had said were to be turned into a prophecy, a knock came at the door, and, upon opening, in walked Sir James Tyrrell and a half a score of men-at-arms.